


I Wish You Upon the Stars

by queenofteacups



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Romance, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-12-30 06:02:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12102348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenofteacups/pseuds/queenofteacups
Summary: Following a disastrous diplomatic mission, Leia returns home to find Han waiting for her.





	I Wish You Upon the Stars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [organanation](https://archiveofourown.org/users/organanation/gifts).



> This was requested several decades ago by a kind anonymous, asking me to write a fic based on a headcanon I sent organanation on Tumblr, and after a lot of set backs, here it is!
> 
> I'm amazed by all the support I've been given by the hanleia community for this fic, and without it, I doubt this would have ever seen the light of day.
> 
> The title of the fic is taken from a song in the Star Wars universe of the same name. The lyrics are, to my knowledge, never specified, so the lyrics in this fic are of my own creation. Beware: I'm no songwriter, lol.

The beep of his comlink woke Han from a deep slumber. Raising his head from where it’d been planted on a fluffy pillow, he swung his arm in the direction of the answer switch.

 

“Solo here.” Han mumbled, brushing aside some hair that had fallen in his face as he sat up. It was a womprat’s nest from where he’d neglected to wash and brush it the night before. Judging from the stench originating from his shirt, he would need a extra long trip to the fresher before he left his and Leia's quarters in the Imperial Palace. 

 

_ Gotta love hyperspace travel _ , he thought. The past week had been spent in various shuttles hauling scavenged ships, donated food, and old medical supplies back to Coruscant. Chewie had stayed behind with Leia, owing up to his newly extended life debt. Now, the Wookie took turns between staying with Leia and Han whenever the two parted ways.

 

“ _ Morning, hotshot. Wedge tells me you're back on Coruscant?”  _  said Leia. Han could hear the smile in her voice and envisioned it perfectly in his head; bright enough to make a sun look dim in comparison. It was a smile that made hardened smuggler’s hearts melt. 

 

“Antilles just can't keep his mouth shut, can he?” Han joked. Wedge and the Rogue Squadron had flown with Han and his crew back to Coruscant. To get some fresh air, Wedge said. But Han understood: after years of exhilarating battles and missions, weeks of doing labor for the New Republic got old fast.

 

“ _ Apparently not. How’d the trip go?”  _ Leia asked. The sincerity in her voice gave Han a thrill. They’d been together-together since Endor (sleeping in the same bed, having dinner together, telling each other about their day), but Han still had trouble believing that it was really happening. 

 

It seemed even more impossible when he considered how close this never happened. He’d been too wrapped up in himself back at the Death Star to really care what happened to Leia.

 

_ Thank gods for my love of money _ , Han thought sardonically. Another memory quickly followed: Luke trying to convince Han to help him rescue Leia. What was it that the kid had said?  _ More wealth than you could possibly imagine. _

 

He was right.

 

“Oh, you know how pilots are getting together again. There was a lot of old stories, complaining, and bad jokes.” Han answered. “More than a lot of complaining, actually.”

 

“ _ I'm sure none of them were from you?”  _ Leia said innocently, and a lopsided grin spread across Han's face.

 

“You know me, Princess. I'm a good little scoundrel.” Han countered. Leia chuckled in response, and Han smiled even further. It made his day when he was able to get a laugh out of her.

 

“ _ I'm not sure some of your old friends would agree to that, _ ” Leia replied.

 

“They probably wouldn't.” Han agreed. “How's your trip going? I hear you have a packed ship.” By Chewie’s request, the Falcon had been left with him and Leia who, at Mon Mothma's request, had been sent on a diplomatic mission to some system Han had already forgotten the name of. Naturally, Threepio accompanied them for translation purposes, and Luke had gone as well. 

 

“ _ Chewie and Threepio have been arguing since we left Coruscant---I think Artoo finally switched off for some peace and quiet---and Luke’s been teaching me some basic Jedi training.”  _ Leia answered, and for the first time Han noted the exhaustion in her voice. Anger welled up in him, mostly directed at the council and especially Mothma, who had been wearing Leia thin ever since they re-established the Republic. 

 

“Does he have you practicing with that remote?” Han asked, taking another jaunt down memory lane. Luke wearing that ridiculous helmet, swinging his lightsaber around like a child with a toy truncheon, still in his grimy farming clothes was a stark contrast to the Luke Han knew now.

 

Then again, Han wasn't the same as he use to be either.

 

“ _ Not yet. He suggested learning the basics before trying to learn to deflect with a lightsaber.”  _ Leia said. Then she dropped her voice into a conspiratorial whisper, “ _ I think he's worried I'll accidentally hit him.” _

 

Han laughed--the thought of a Jedi Knight hobbling around because of a combat remote’s blast, much like Luke had the first time he trained with one, was more amusing than it should be.

 

The rest of the conversation flew by quicker than twelve parsecs, and Leia had to go because there was another incoming message from the Senate. Reluctantly, Han had switched off the comm and looked around the room. It was cold, empty, and far too silent.

 

Force, he missed Leia. He missed the sound of her voice, the smell of her hair, her warmth. He missed her sharp wit and the way she could melt his heart and make his knees weak with a single look. 

 

It was selfish of him, but sometimes he almost missed the war. At least then they got to see each other. Now it seemed as if they were lucky to get a fleeting moment every other week, if not every other month.

 

Shaking off the thought, Han stood and headed to the fresher. The Republic certainly would have more work to be done, and Han personally didn't want to smell like the inside of a Tauntaun while he did it.

 

~

 

Coruscant was known for its rich history and lavish buildings, but the real interesting part was the ground. Seedy diners, dirty clubs, smelly sewerage tunnels, junk yards...it was an entirely different world down below. 

 

Han waited impatiently for the turbolift to make its descent, and watched as the buildings around him became towering giants that he was unable to see the tops of. Arguably taking a speeder down would have been the most direct path, but Zhellday traffic was a nightmare on Coruscant. Better to take the scenic route.

 

His mission was simple---go to a particularly grubby diner and meet with a couple of smugglers, ask them to help ship cargo for the Republic, report back, and head home to make some dinner.

 

The second he stepped into said diner, all thoughts of dinner escaped his mind. Because, of course- _ of course _ -of all the kriffing smugglers in the entire kriffing galaxy, it had to be those two. 

 

The Fenix twins.

 

They were renown around the galaxy as no good swindlers, even by smugglers’ standards. Han had worked a job with them before, a simple operation wherein all they had to do was sneak into a facility, get a couple of crystals to sell on the market, and go right back out.

 

Halfway through the operation, the twins turned on them, alerting some nearby Imperial officers that they caught a man and a Wookie stealing some damn Kyber Crystals, and, oh sorry Han, we work alone.

 

Damn red headed twins nearly landed Chewie back in Imperial hands.

 

Mentally counting backwards from ten, Han sauntered over to their table. Malia, the eldest twin, was drinking a caf that smelt strongly of Corellian whisky, and laughing at something her brother, Jaymes had said. The instant her stormy gray eyes flickered over to Han, her ocean blue skin turned into an ill gray color.

 

“What is it?” Jaymes asked as he twisted in his seat to see what had spooked his sister so badly. His eyes went as round as the twin suns of Tatooine as recognition flickered across his face. 

 

Han opened his mouth to greet them, but slammed it shut immediately when Malia jumped from her seat and whipped out a blaster and pointed it at Han.

 

“Not another step, Solo.” Malia snarled, “Or I'll shoot.”

 

Han held his arms out in a  _ what, me?  _ gesture.

 

A nearby waiter let out a low squeak and rushed to the backroom. Han sighed. So much for an audience, he thought, looking around at the now empty diner.

 

“You are a criminal, Solo.” Jaymes spat. “Don't act like you wouldn't have sold us out if the roles were reversed.”

 

“Reformed criminal,” Han corrected, expression darkening. “And the difference between me and the two of you is that I would never sell out a Wookie to the Empire. Or did you forget that the Empire specialized in slavery?”

 

“It was of no consequence to us,” Malia retorted. “Wookies are nothing more than hulking furballs... they're so brainless they can't grasp the concept of slavery.”

 

“At least Chewie and I are successful on the job...from what I hear, the two of you never sold a single kyber crystal after the stunt you pulled with us.” Han replied cooly. If there was one weakness all smugglers shared, it was hubris. Some had it in small doses, others not so much. The Fenix Twins fell in the latter category.

 

“We sold them,” Jaymes hissed, leaping to his feet. He was scrappy looking and had the grace of a Rancor, but from what Han could remember, he was a decent shot--with his fists as well as his blaster. “To the right buyer who was willing to keep quiet.”

 

“Nice try, Fenix. You and I both know you wouldn't want to keep your success a secret. Smuggling kyber crystals right under the Empire's nose  _ and  _ managing to sell them? That's a lot of bragging rights.” Han retorted. “I'm willing to bet that you never sold a single crystal...I mean, who would want a fake anyway, right?”

 

Jaymes made a strangled noise and Malia surged forward, growling. “I  _ knew _ you traded them out. Get a nice profit out of them, did you?”

 

“Sold it to a nice scientist woman,” Han answered. “Got me a few credits, yeah. I may be a scoundrel, darling, but I'm not a bad man. I don't sell out my partners, certainly not to the Imperials. Believe it not fellas, I do have morals.”

 

“Luckily,” Malia hissed, “I  _ don't. _ ”

 

Han ducked at precisely the right moment. The second his torso hit the ground, he heard the blaster go off. He rolled behind a booth as Malia fired again, and pulled out his own blaster.

 

“I did have an offer for you,” Han called. “Hauling cargo for the Republic. Guessin’ that's a no?”

 

He only got a strangled screech of anger in response. It sounded like it came from Jaymes. 

 

Han looked up at the mirror that hung by the door. It gave him a clear view of both Malia and Jaymes. Malia was at the end of the counter, crouched with her head leaned around the corner trying to get a glimpse of Han. Jaymes had followed Han's example and had ducked behind a booth, but kept popping his head up to see what was happening.

 

Killing was off the table. Maiming and embarrassing? Definitely on the table.

 

Directly above Jaymes was a flashing advertisement. Han scooted to the edge of cover, peered around the corner, and squeezed the trigger. 

 

The blast hit home and the advertisement over Jaymes exploded into a billion sparks. The man yelped in pain and lunged away from cover, and Han took the opportunity to aim and squeeze the trigger. Another shot rang through the diner, and Han looked round to see Jaymes sprawled out in the middle of the floor, swearing at the injury above his knee. His blaster was nowhere to be found.

 

Nothing a bacta patch wouldn't fix, but it would make him practically immobile depending on his pain tolerance. Given the amount of hissing and swearing coming from him, Han was willing to wager it was pretty low.

 

“You  _ idiot!” _ Han heard Malia snarl at her brother. A quick glimpse showed him that she hadn't run to her brother. Instead she remained hidden, while her baby brother remained obviously in the line of fire.

 

Jaymes seemed to have realized this as well, because he snapped, “Come help me!”

 

Malia seemed to have a moment of indecision, then she finally answered: “No.”

 

“No?” Jaymes cried in shock. “We're partners- _ twins!” _

 

“So? If you're so determined to live, you’ve got another leg. Use it.” Malia responded coldly. Han felt a fresh surge of dislike for her roll over him.

 

_ Definitely the kind of people we need hauling cargo, _ Han thought bitterly as the twins continued to argue. 

 

Han jumped up and around the booth, blaster raised in the air. He squeezed the trigger, and a laser sizzled out and hit the ceiling. Both twins started and turned to Han. Malia’s blaster followed her gaze, but Han’s was already leveled at her.

 

“You’re outnumbered, Fenix. I'd drop that weapon if I was you.” Han warned her. “I came here under orders from Mon Mothma  _ herself. _ You think she sent me alone?” Han shook his head grimly. “There's a whole squad outside waiting for my signal. As soon as I give it, you can kiss you and your brother’s pretty heads goodbye.”

 

Malia’s eyes flickered toward the window, fearfully. When she saw no one but a few civilians, she turned back to Han. “You’re lying,” she said.

 

“Some of the best operatives in the Republic... didn't think they'd go parading around their badges, did you? They're all undercover.” Han pointed at a skinny fellow reading off a datapad on the street corner. “That fella there--that’s Wedge Antilles, Rogue Leader. You definitely won't want to mess with him. Oh! And over there,” Han pointed to a woman fussing with her commlink, “That there is Jyn Erso…she terrifies  _ me. _ ”

 

Malia's face ashened considerably, and Jaymes looked as if he was going to be sick. Han grinned lopsidedly.

 

“Believe me now?”

 

~

 

“It's a miracle you're still alive after all these years, you know that?” Wedge remarked as he took a long sip of his caf. 

 

After dealing with the Fenix twins and reporting back to the Council, Wedge had contacted him offering lunch and some good, strong caf at a nearby cafe. It was a quiet one, with a good atmosphere, and had plenty of back corner booths from which you could see every exit. And the caf, as Wedge had promised, was life changing.

 

Han shrugged innocently in return, but knew what Wedge meant. He’d already retold the story twice now, and each time he told it the more he found it hard to believe that the twins had bought his bold faced lie about backup. 

 

“I would, however, appreciate it if you neglected to mention me to any other trigger-happy smugglers in the future.” Wedge said. 

 

“Hey! I'm just helping bolster your reputation,” Han replied sardonically. After a sip of his caf, he sobered up. “Have you heard anything about when Leia’s returning?”

 

Wedge sighed and looked around the cafe. Deciding there weren't any eavesdroppers, Wedge turned back to Han. “You do realize talking about current missions in a public space is against protocol.”

 

“And you’ve  _ never _ broken protocol before.”

 

Wedge sighed, “They're already on their way back. The Nautolans refused to join the New Republic. They’re determined to stay neutral. A not uncommon decision.”

 

“Considering the last government we had, I can hardly blame them.” Han huffed, leaning back in his seat. A zing of excitement was buzzing through him. Leia would be home soon.

 

“Tell me about it. But word around the X-Wing has it that the council is getting... _.impatient. _ We’re losing more systems than gaining them, which means there's all the more systems that the Empire could take back.”

 

The war was over, yet at the same time it wasn't. There was always the fear of Imperial loyalists rebelling and gathering their forces, leading a revolt against the New Republic, which was barely standing on its own to begin with. It wouldn't take much to topple it to the ground.

 

“Empire or not, for all the systems we lose, there’ll be two more willing to join.” Han replied with more enthusiasm than he felt. 

 

“Not everyone agrees. And Ackbar still isn't thrilled with having….” Wedge trailed off, obviously trying to figure out a way to say what he was going to say without offending Han. “Illegal traders working with us, especially since none of them are willing to work with us.”

 

Ackbar didn't trust anyone, or _like_ anyone, who left the military or ignored it. He and Lando fell into the first category, having resigned a year after the destruction of the second Death Star. Every other smuggler in the galaxy fell into the second category, so having to hire smugglers to ship cargo would be enough to tick off the old Admiral.

 

“We're not all scoundrels,” Han said to no one in particular.  _ Most of us are, but there's a few honest people out there smuggling. Well,  _ mostly _ honest. _

 

“I know,” Wedge agreed. “Even so, between that and the failure to bring more planets in, it sounds like the council meeting was about as peaceful as a rancor den. Mon Mothma ended it half an hour early, if that tells you anything.”

 

“Yeah it does, actually.” Han said, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “It says I better get going.” He stood up and gave Wedge a salute, “Thanks for the caf, Wedge.”

 

“Any time, Solo.” Wedge replied with an easy smile as he leaned back against his chair. “Tell Leia I said hello.”

 

Han was already on the move, so he waved his hand to signal that he heard Wedge. Council meetings were stressful enough on Leia, but with its members already cantankerous? 

 

_ This calls for drastic measures, _ Han decided firmly as he stepped out into the warm sunlight. 

 

*

 

The Imperial Palace, Leia decided, was definitely beautiful. Its architecture was eclectic, having been added to and remodeled several times during its time; there were even a few rooms that still used ancient heavy wooden doors. 

 

Her and Han’s apartment wasn't one of those rooms, being a recent addition. It was large, spacious, with several rooms and a balcony seeing out to a swath of the city. 

 

Lights twinkled from the skyscrapers, and Leia was momentarily brought back to her youth, spending time in her family's quarters on Coruscant; she remembered the first time she’d stepped out on a balcony to see the city. Leia hadn't been impressed with the cramped city, the overwhelming foreign sounds, or the lack of anything colorful.

 

She preferred Alderaan's airy, quiet and peaceful nature. The tall mountains that reached up to the heavens, the thunderstorms that were an often occurrence; where the buildings were made with love and care, were painted to be bright and welcoming. 

 

It was a preference she no longer had the luxury of having.

 

Leia broke out of her reverie, shoving away the pain of her planet's death. Its absence, and her parents, was an always present ache; but some days the wound felt as fresh as the day it happened. 

 

The door slid close behind her with a hiss, and Leia marched to the couch and fell onto it without preamble. Her limbs felt like lead, and her muscle were tight from tension. 

 

The trip to Glee Anselm had been a stressful one, to say the least. Chewie and Threepio had argued more than Leia had ever heard Threepio and Artoo argue, with occasional hoots and beeps from Artoo, mostly out of indignation whenever Threepio would make a derogatory comment about the astromech.

 

Luke had attempted to ease Leia’s nerves by teaching her some basic Jedi calming tricks. For the most part they had worked, but the most calming experience she had on the trip was talking to Han. His sweet, baritone voice thick with sleep had comforted her in ways the Force had been unable to. For the first time in days,  _ the Falcon _ felt a bit like home again.

 

But the trip there had been nothing compared to her failure to bring the Nautolan into the New Republic. The council’s offers to help establish a proper government on the planet had been politely declined, but the Nautolan’s opinion of Coruscant had been less so. 

 

Leia could still hear their cries of frustration over the Empire, how the Rebellion failed to help them then, so how could they now? How were they any better than the Empire? After all, hadn't they demolished a government to build their own?

 

Leia wondered how much more scorn they would have received if the Nautolans knew that the councillor and Jedi the New Republic had sent were, in fact, Darth Vader's biological children.

 

Not to mention how awful the meeting was...

 

Leia growled in frustration. Who knew building a government could be so grueling? She hadn't seen Han in ages-

 

Music.

 

Leia sat straight up, adrenaline already pulsing through her veins, making her alert. Somehow she’d missed it when she walked in, but there was music playing. Jaunty music, too. A tune she recognized…

 

She heard a squeaking noise, followed by a crash and a lot of swearing. Leia followed the sound to an open doorway opposite of the couch. The next second, Han was there, having slid across the tile floor in his socks. 

 

His eyes light up when he saw her, and a lopsided grin appeared on his face. He sauntered over toward her, and when he spoke, he sang the lyrics of the song playing: _ I wish you upon the stars... _

 

Han wrapped his arms around her waist and spun her round. Leia let out a yell of surprise, which quickly turned to glee when, as her feet hit the floor, Han pressed his chapped lips to hers. It was a feeling she'd desperately missed lately, and to have it back made her feel as though she'd found water in a desert.

 

The kiss didn't last long. As quick as he pressed his lips to hers, Han pulled away to continue singing along with the old classic as they danced across the living room floor. 

 

As a child, Leia always considered the song to be the most romantic song in creation. More than once, she had caught her parents swaying to the song, looking more like lovers than two highly esteemed politicians or parents. It was an odd yet heartwarming sight, one she treasured to this day.

 

Han spun her around, before pulling her back toward him. “You're good at this,” he said lowly. 

 

“I took dance, remember?” Leia replied, as his hand slipped around her waist and his other hand took hers. 

 

They were like water, moving and receding with calm and grace, masking their forceful nature. They twirled and swayed in tune with the song.

 

The sunset had turned to nightfall, casting their apartment in a cool glow. Shadows fell across walls, and a cool breeze wafted through the window, along with a few rays of moonlight. Leia and Han treated the moonlight as their own personal spotlight, twirling in place in the center of it. They spoke no words, but they understood all of what was unsaid:  _ I missed you, I love you, thank you _ .

 

At last, the song came to an end, and they both stopped along with it. That didn't mean they let go of each other, though. Han held her tight against him, his arms around her, and she pressed her cheek against his chest. Warmth spread across her whole body, starting from her chest and spreading light everywhere else. 

 

“Maybe you should teach me some things.” Han suggested innocently.

 

“Only if you can keep up, hotshot.” Leia retorted, looking up at him with a sly grin. All the tension in her muscles had loosened, the memories of her diplomatic mission, the council meeting, and the trip to Glee Anselm faded away. 

 

She was in the here and now, focused solely on her husband. His bright eyes, the scar on his chin, the lovestruck look he was giving her.

 

Leia leaned forward, capturing his lips with hers, and wrapped her arms around his neck, bringing him down to her.

 

He responded in kind, his own hands sliding up her back to glide into her hair. He fumbled with the pins that held her braids up, freed them, and her dark locks fell to her back. As she always did when he did this, Leia felt exposed, vulnerable. But above all, safe.

 

She pulled away, but kept her arms around Han.

 

Luke told her that the Force was everywhere, that it was a living energy, flowing here and there, guiding and penetrating. It was in all living things, and if she focused hard enough, Leia could feel it.

 

That's what the love she felt for Han felt like. She could sense it, like it was a living thing, guiding the two of them together, keeping them from drifting apart. 

 

Leia could feel it now, ebbing between the two of them. She wondered if Han could sense it, too, but she didn't even know how to ask such a question. Instead, she closed the distance between them again, opening herself up to the Force, extending it toward him, hoping maybe he would see things the way she did.

 

He went slack against her for a moment, and for a split second, she felt his thoughts. The surprise, the disbelief, the joy, and at last, the love. It burned as bright as a sun, was as beautiful as any nebulae Leia had ever seen. 

 

Han kissed her in earnest then, and the last fully formed thought Leia had in awhile was the lyrics from that song:

  
_ I wish you upon the stars, there's no greater love than ours. Our story may turn to dust, as all tales must, but my love for you, darling, will never fade... _


End file.
